


Triptych

by sabinelagrande



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Faulkner References...?, Juvenilia, Magical Bondage, Minor Character Death, My First Fanfic, Previously Sporked, Saints Preserve Us, What Was I Thinking, Why Would Anyone Even Do This, You're Killing Me Smalls
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-10-15
Updated: 2003-10-15
Packaged: 2017-10-30 11:17:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/331181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sabinelagrande/pseuds/sabinelagrande
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hermione is obsessed. Snape is tortured. Fudge is dead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Odor of Verbena

**Author's Note:**

> Notes, 1 Feb 2012:
> 
> Oh my god, you guys, oh my actual god.
> 
> So this is the first story I ever wrote knowing what I was doing was writing fanfiction- weird stories about Tenchi Muyo in the backs of notebooks don't count. I started writing it when I was about seventeen and a half, all in longhand in a notebook that I jealously guarded, and I felt SO GUILTY when I sent it in to Restricted Section, where it was first posted, because I wasn't _actually_ eighteen yet. It wasn't posted until after my birthday, as it happened, but I was still so guilty.
> 
> It took a lot of soul-searching for me to even post this, because what's really the worst about this is the INCREDIBLE degree of pretentiousness I had as a high schooler. But what's done is done, and what has been seen can never be unseen.
> 
> Forgive me my sins, good people of the AO3.
> 
>  
> 
> Original author's notes:
> 
> This is my first ever NC-17 fic. A triptych is a painting done in three pieces. 10 points to anybody who can find and cite the random Shakespeare quote.

You do know that I still love you, right? 

I remember when you found out. I was a giggling 13-year-old then. You said nothing in class. You just said, "Miss Granger, a word," and kept me from Harry and Ron. We were going to sit out by the lake, an entirely uneventful and unremarkable pursuit. Harry and Ron would have talked about Quidditch, and I would have lain on my back and watched as the clouds floated by, and I would have no memory of it. Instead, you said those 4 words, those damnable 4 words. 

You told me how you found the note I wrote to Parvati, the one where I said I couldn't concentrate in Potions any more because of you. You all but laughed in my face - laughed that I loved you, laughed that I was a stupid girl, laughed that I had put such a flimsy locking charm on the note that you could break it in 2 minutes flat. Then you took five points from Gryffindor for not paying attention (not that you would notice or care that I had higher grades than anyone), five points for using magic out of class, and 5 points for doing it badly. Looking back, I'm not surprised. You always were a bit of a bastard. Then you gave me the note and told me to get out. That slow, agonizing walk across your classroom was the longest minute of my life. But I couldn't show you weakness - oh no, not Time Turner Granger, not the girl who could handle it all. As soon as I hit the door I flew past Harry and Ron. I ran to my room and sobbed my eyes out until supper. It was supposed to be an idyllic, worthless afternoon. You made it hell for me. And at dinner, when I was all rumpled and red, you just sat there and chewed. You sat there and chewed absolutely heartlessly, or as heartlessly as one can chew. 

And I remember when I first discovered myself. Alone in the quiet dark of my parents' peaceful Muggle house, listening to the wind and thinking about you. Yes, you. Those were your insinuating fingers that rubbed me gently, your hands that probed my wetness carefully, your name I whispered softly as I could into the night air. It was you. It was always you. 

And I remember quite clearly when I kissed you. It was seventh year, the night of the Leaving Feast. I met you in the hall just before the feast. I made some excuse to talk to you. We were all alone on the third floor. I leaned up and kissed you on the cheek. I still remember how you smelled - spicy and strong with a hint of verbena - till you pulled away gently and walked off without a word. That time I didn't cry. I just watched you walk away. I've never been back there since. 

And I remember my first time like it was yesterday - the wound is still that fresh. Lying on my back on Ron's bed at the Burrow later that summer, listening to the wireless playing somewhere else in the house. We were getting on famously until I whispered your name into his ear. He stopped dead. He yelled at me how I must have a pretty sick sense of humor, and didn't I know he failed his Potions O.W.L., and to get the hell out of his sight. I Apparated out of there as quickly as I could, still wondering why it always came back to you - dear God, why did it always have to come back to you? You were the reason I didn't have the normal, boring, simple life I wanted with Ron, you were the reason he married Parvati and not me - me who everyone was thoroughly and rightfully convinced that he was going to marry. You robbed me of that, and I will never forgive you for it. 

But I'm still in love with you. I still want you above all things. Four long years at a boring job at the Ministry have changed nothing, except perhaps my drinking habits. I still want to run my hands through your long black hair and taste the salt on your skin. I still want to feel you deep inside of me. I want you to tie me down and pound me slowly and incessantly until the world disappears. I want you to make me scream Severus so loudly that I wake the Dark Lord in his grave. I want to feel you explode inside of me, and I want to explode with you. Then maybe I'll be exorcised of you. 

I guess that's why when I got the owl from Minerva saying she wanted me to fill her place once she became headmistress, I jumped at the chance. 

Guess I always was a glutton for the pain. 

"...she said verbena was the only scent you could smell above the smell of horses and courage and so it was the only one that was worth the wearing." - "An Odor of Verbena", The Unvanquished, William Faulkner


	2. The Undertaking

Of course I thought she was pretty. There were few who could truthfully say they didn't. And of course she was one of the best students I'd ever had. But I couldn't love her. 

First of all, she was my student. As pretty and smart as she was, she wasn't worth my job. I had to be at Hogwarts. I had to be useful to the master I'd betrayed. I had to be there, and be detached, or my life would have been worth nothing. 

Secondly, she was almost twenty years my junior. It was against every applicable law I could name. It was absurd. When she kissed me before the Leaving Feast - oh no, don't think I've forgotten- I must confess that somewhere within me there was some spark of hopefulness. But it really was absurd. 

Thirdly, I couldn't love her because she looked just like Calliope - beautiful, radiant Calliope, Calliope who I loved more than my own life, innocent Calliope, Calliope who was dead because of me. It was easy to ignore the resemblance for a long time, but then there was the Yule Ball. When I saw her there, completely transformed, the world swirled into blackness and there was nothing but Calliope, every strand of her hair the color of burnished brass exactly as it had been years before. 

Calliope was more beautiful than the summer stars, softer than the spring rain, as pure as the driven snow. We met at Hogwarts. She was a Ravenclaw; I was the beleaguered Slytherin outcast. By sixth year, my misguided loyalty to the Dark Lord had already been sealed. Then she walked up to me at the beginning of seventh year Potions and sat at the cauldron next to mine. I would give anything for that moment to have never happened. 

Naturally, I loved her. She was the first person to show me any real kindness. And she loved me. Her touch soothed me beyond anything. Her kisses were intoxicating. When we made love, it was as if nothing else in the world had ever, would ever, or could ever exist. Nothing could ever be except me inside of her, and our rhythm, and my hands in her long hair, and the way she softly moaned my name. 

But we were cursed from the start. We were fundamentally different. I tried to talk to her about the Dark Lord and his plan. She would have none of it. She merely touched my lips to stop me and would hear no more. For every bit of evil in me, she was good. For every speck of my cowardice, she had courage. So it could never last. 

And so He killed her. Killed her because she was innocent and pure; more importantly, He killed her because I loved her more than I could ever love Him. In hindsight, it was the worst and most costly mistake He ever made, the one that most directly lead to His undoing. In alienating me, He gave His enemies the most powerful tool they could ever have, a disgruntled member of His inner sanctum. I swore at her funeral that I would live to see Him defeated. 

After her death, I became an ascetic. It's not particularly hard when you live at a boarding school and are most decidedly not a pedophile. I merely turned off the part of me that had loved her, and in doing so, most of my emotions. My love was replaced with hatred, my compassion with spite. I was afraid to love again. I couldn't take another loss like her. 

But then, Granger showed up at that damn ball. And of course, since it was dangerous, illegal, and disloyal to Calliope and my beliefs, I fell in love with her. I loved her for every reason that I loved Calliope and, to my horror, multitudinous reasons that had nothing to do with her. I loved the fiery spark in her eyes, something Calliope lacked. I caught myself wondering how she kissed, what she looked like first thing in the morning, what it would be like to taste her. And I hated myself for it. 

It was inevitable that she would take Advanced Potions. She was, after all, brilliant. And I was a coward, a pitiful, worthless coward. Afraid to confront my love for her, I lashed out at her. He essays had to be twice as good as anyone else's (which they always were) to receive the same grade. I openly criticized her in class when she had done absolutely nothing wrong. I was despicable and cruel, hoping to turn my love to hate. After two long years, it almost worked. 

But of course, it couldn't be that simple. After all I'd done to her, she had to go and kiss me. She had to kiss me chastely and purely. That kiss was an acute stab into my very soul. It took me every last drop of me to pull away. I was still spying on the Dark Lord. I was a marked man. I couldn't have her destroyed because of me. I was a dangerous person to love. 

Within a month, the Dark Lord was dead, along with some of the finest wizards I've ever met, light and dark. I was finally released of my double life. My vow to Calliope was fulfilled. I could sink quietly into oblivion- yelling at students, perfecting new potions, and not caring about the world. The ascetic life suited me, and I could at last have the quiet marriage to Calliope's memory that I had always wanted. 

But I only had 3 short years of peace. Then it happened. Cornelius Fudge was killed by the last vestiges of the Dark Lord's supporters. He was a bumbling fool, but he didn't deserve it. He was also a necessary fool. After his death, people started talking. They started saying how Dumbledore should be the new Minister of Magic, as he was the best wizard in an age. A year the rumblings went on. Eventually, Dumbledore was forced to concede. 

When this school year begins, Minerva McGonagall will be the new Headmistress, Professor Flitwick will be Deputy Headmaster, and I still won't have Defense Against the Dark Arts, despite being an expert Occlumens. That honor will once again rest with Professor Lupin, who should know all about it, being a Dark creature himself. But I digress. 

I have just been informed that Hermione Granger is on her way here now to take Minerva's position. Now I have to look at her every day, to speak to her as if nothing had ever occurred, and to go without sleep every night thinking of her. So much for oblivion. 

"And if this love, though placd so,   
From profane men you hide,   
Which will no faith on this bestow,   
Or, if they do, deride; 

Then you have done a braver thing   
Than all the Worthies did;   
And a braver thence will spring,   
Which is, to keep that hid."   
-"The Undertaking", John Donne


	3. The Living Ones

The castle was bigger than she remembered. She had heard that childhood memories were supposed to grow and build themselves into grand edifices, but somehow it hadn't happened. She had taken the Hogwarts Express up from London with Remus, Professor Vector, and the other professors who lived there during the summer. 

And now here she was at the platform. Two black coaches lead by Thestrals awaited them. Hermione and Remus were alone in the second carriage. Remus stretched himself out and regarded her intently. 

"Youngest ever head of Gryffindor," he said, eying her. "Without a bit of teaching experience to your name. How'd you manage that one? 

She shrugged. 

"You know, I've asked myself the same question," she replied. "Considering I've broken every single rule on the books except the one about shagging in the prefects' bathroom." 

"My, what a lovely day it is today," he said, pretending to be immensely interested in the lake. 

"Drop the act, Remus." 

"Why, don't I play it with such flair?" he asked as he threw his hair over his shoulder in an exaggerated gesture. She just laughed. He leaned over and kissed her gently on the forehead. 

Minerva was waiting for the coaches at the castle doors. The other professors were led to their rooms by house elves. Minerva turned to her. 

"Owing to your usual aversion to house elves, Professor Granger, I thought I would show you to your chamber personally," the older woman said. 

"I'm never going to live that one down, am I?" Hermione asked. 

"Not for some good many years, I should suspect," Minerva replied, smiling at her. 

She led Hermione to a statue of Merlin on the first floor. 

"Ice mice," she said to it. It swung open. She motioned for Hermione to step through and followed her. Hermione found herself in a small chamber with five doors. The two on the left bore the crests of Slytherin and Ravenclaw; the two on the right belonged to Hufflepuff and Gryffindor. The door in the middle was crowned with an elaborately carved lintel and bore the Hogwarts crest. 

"These are the bedrooms of the various heads of house," explained Minerva. "The one in the middle is mine." She turned to the door to Hermione's room. Hermione noticed immediately that there was no knob. 

"Godric," Minerva said, and the door opened obligingly. They entered. 

"I believe you'll find everything in order," said Minerva briskly. She strode around the room briskly, straightening things here and there. "The door to your room is enchanted. If you merely open it, you will find yourself back in the hallway. However, if you wish to go somewhere else, tap the door once with your wand and state the location. To change the password, tap the door three times and state the new one." She turned and smiled at Hermione. "We're having a little informal get-together tonight in the faculty common room. The password is `Fizzing Whizzbees,' and we'll be meeting around five, then going to dinner from there. We hope you'll join us." She then turned and tapped her wand on the door. "Headmistress's office," she said clearly. Hermione could catch glimpses of the magnificent office when the door opened. Minerva strode briskly in and the door closed behind her. 

Hermione struggled to process all the information she'd just been given. She felt like a first year again. She took her first look around the room. The bed was an elaborate, canopied affair in rich red and gold. The room was much more spacious than the tiny flat in which she'd lived in London. She felt she was going to like it there. 

At that moment, she also felt something else: a tingling first in her right foot, then in her left. She lay down quickly on the bed and braced herself. She shook slightly as an ice cold wave hit her. The relaxation and cheerfulness potions she had brewed for her journey both wore off at exactly that moment. Cold realization took her slowly. She had come to face her destiny, like it or not. 

She woke up disoriented around 4:30. After a few moments, she realized that the potions' effects had sent her into a slight doze. She got up and dressed, forgoing her usual plain robes for ones of rich scarlet satin. She muttered a smoothing charm for her hair, and at precisely five she stood in front of her door. Hermione took a deep breath and tapped the door. 

"Faculty common room," she said clearly. 

She found herself standing before a portrait of a bored-looking wizard in an Elizabethan ruff. 

"Fizzing Whizzbees," she said politely. The portrait hole swung open. Most of the professors had yet to arrive. Remus and Minerva were there, already chatting. Hermione made her way farther into the room. Her breath caught in her throat. 

He had sensed her presence as soon as she walked in. He couldn't explain why; he just had an electric feeling now that she was near. He hunched over his tea, afraid to face her. Why couldn't he just turn around and look at her. 

She had turned to engage Professor Sprout. He was saved for the moment. He allowed himself a quick look. She was more beautiful than he remembered. He was suddenly forgetful of himself. 

His reputation as a loner served his purposes well. He spent the rest of the gathering- he hated forced socialization anyway, regardless of the company involved- brooding into his teacup, trying to muster his courage. What could he say to her after all these years? After what was in his estimation an eternity, a house elf entered, bowed low, and announced that dinner was served. He waited a few moments, then unfolded himself from his chair. He was at the rear of the group. He saw her there in front of him, and steeled himself to act. He stepped purposefully forward. 

At precisely that moment, Professor Lupin took Hermione by the arm. 

"Might I have the pleasure of escorting a young lady to dinner?" he asked in a manner which Snape found sickeningly debonair. That fucking werewolf had bested him again. He recoiled and planned his next move. 

The Great Hall was rather bare while the school tapestries were out for their summer cleaning. The chairs on the dais, usually arranged so that teachers could keep watch over the unruly mob of students, had been rearranged for a quiet, intimate dinner. House elves seated the professors at their predetermined seats. Hermione found herself seated across from Professor Flitwick. The headmistress was to her right, facing Remus. The seat on her left hand remained vacant. Suddenly, she saw a rustle of black in the corner of her eye. She knew immediately who it was. 

Startled, she turned as she heard her name. Remus was talking at her about something again. She feigned interest. She was glad when their food appeared. Minerva made a short toast, and they began to eat. She found, however, that she had little appetite. Professor Snape had still not said a word to her. He was making small talk about the finer points of Telescoping Potions with Professor Sinistra. She watched him surreptitiously while eating. He was doing it again - just sitting there chewing. She narrowed her eyes at the broccoli. 

Severus Snape had come back to himself. He had no idea what had come over him. He made a vow, and he wasn't about to let anyone break it. Still, he thought around a bite of steak, it was silly. He should at least try to make conversation with her. He should treat her professionally, just like any other teacher. 

She was still staring down her vegetables when he spoke. 

"Welcome back to Hogwarts, Professor Granger," he said, almost smiling. 

_Work, brain!_ She shouted to herself. _Speak!_

"Thank you," she managed to stammer. _Stupid brain! Speak better!_

He turned back to his steak. Well, that was one thing accomplished. He almost felt proud of himself. 

***

A week had passed since Hermione had returned to Hogwarts. He hadn't said a word to her since the first night at dinner. He wouldn't even look at her. She was lying on her back on the great bed during dinnertime, staring fixedly at the ceiling. 

Being back in his presence had made her like a woman possessed. She wasn't eating. She often spent meal times wandering the castle like a ghost. She found sleep with great difficulty, and only in her animagus form. 

A kind of daze settled over her. She grabbed her wand and walked over to the door. She tapped once. 

"Severus's office," she said a bit shakily. 

He was standing in front of his ingredients cabinet wondering if he needed more dittany when he heard the door slam. Someone muttered an incantation, and he could hear the swish of a wand. 

"Your locking charms have certainly improved," he said without turning. 

"You've been ignoring me," she said unevenly. He swallowed hard. "You've been torturing me, Severus, and you know it." 

He whipped around before she had time to think. 

"Expelliarmus!" he shouted, pointing his wand at her. "Accio wand!" 

"Give me back my wand!" she yelled at him as he locked it in the cabinet. 

"I will do no such thing," he said, turning back to her. "You are obviously distraught, as I will not have you wrecking my office." 

Defeated, she sank into a chair. She was tired, so tired. He sat down across from her, though his heart quailed at being so near. She had started to sob quietly. He drew a deep breath and looked into her eyes. 

Memories started flying through her head. Snape finding the note. The Yule Ball, for no good reason she could think of. Kissing Snape. Being with Ron at the Burrow. She shuddered slightly as the visions receded. 

He sighed deeply. He had always secretly feared it would come to this. He took her lightly by the wrist and led her to the Pensieve that Dumbledore had given him. He touched his wand to his temple and dropped a shining strand into the basin. She looked at him, then into the Pensieve. He tried not to look at her, staring out the window across the lake. 

She looked up at him some minutes later with a look of great sadness in her eyes. Without a word, he walked to the cabinet, retrieved her wand, and handed it to her. She broke the charm on the door and left. He replaced the memory from the Pensieve. 

He cast himself down into his chair and rubbed his temples slowly. 

***

Severus stood in front of her door later that night. He realized that he had cheated her. He had taken all her secrets from her, but he had only shown her Calliope and her fate and not his love for her. 

She was lying on her bed in the fetal position when she heard his voice outside the door. 

"Godric," he said, and the door swung obligingly open. She looked at him. 

"How did you know my password?" she asked. 

"All the passwords are reset at the beginning of each year, always to the same thing," he replied. "I surmised you hadn't changed yours yet." 

She stood and wrapped her robes around her. He could tell she'd been crying. 

"What are you doing here?" she sneered. "Haven't you seen enough already?" 

A bit embarrassed, he sat down in her chair. He realized that he could never tell her. It just wasn't in his power. And yet she had to know. He sighed. 

"You can perform Legilimency, can you not?" he asked. She nodded. With extreme difficulty, he dropped his guard. He braced himself. 

"Try me," he said, focusing on her and looking her deep in the eyes. 

A strange warmth filled him as he thought of her. He felt himself overcome with what he finally realized was love. He came back to his senses and realized that she had thrown herself on the bed again and was crying softly. He sat down next to her and held her for a long time. At long last she spoke. 

"All this time?" she questioned. He nodded mutely. He started to explain, but the words left him. 

He knew what he was supposed to do, what he was expected to do. He was supposed to deny himself and go back to his cold room alone. 

He felt something stirring deep with him. He gave up trying to fight it. Years of denial and repression were slowly slipping away from him. Cowardly vows be damned. He had hid behind them long enough. It was time to face himself, his fears, and his longing for her. He stood up and removed his outer robes. 

"What are you doing?" she asked him through her tears. 

"Something I should have done a long, long time ago," he replied. He pulled her up to him and kissed her softly. He brushed the tears from her face with incredible tenderness. She felt calmed and restored in his embrace. The room went black, and for a long while she knew no more. 

***

She awoke alone in her big bed. She couldn't understand why he could have left her like that. She had just resolved to hate him forever when the door opened. Oblivious, he entered with a tray of food and a pitcher of pumpkin juice. 

"What happened?" she asked, immeasurably relieved. 

"You passed out," he said, putting the tray down on her nightstand. "Going without food or sleep with do that do a person. Now open up." He put a piece of chocolate in her mouth. She accepted it without fighting and felt the warmth flow into her limbs. 

The house elves had failed to disappoint. She had enough food for three people. She suddenly remembered how hungry she was. Severus poured her a glass of pumpkin juice, which she gulped down. After nearly finishing the food, she dabbed the corners of her mouth with her napkin. 

He thought of a million things to say to her. All of them died in his head. He sounded so coarse, so lacking, so very old. Words, which had been his refuge for so long, failed him completely. He looked up and saw her staring at him curiously. He looked away, abashed. She smiled sweetly. 

She grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him on top of her. He was surprised but kissed her, firmly and deeply this time, exploring her mouth. Her hands found his hair and entwined themselves at the base of his head. He found that he just couldn't restrain himself. He raised up from her and undid the toggles on the front of her robes. He cast the robes off the bed and made light work of her thin slip. Soon she was lying there under him in nothing but her underwear. He marveled at the sight. 

He knocked her hands away when they tried to divest him of the black floor length inner robe that he wore even in summer. 

"All in due time," he said and pressed his mouth to hers. His hands were at long last free to wander over her beautiful skin. He ran his fingertips lightly from her ear down across her shoulder and across her collarbone. Hermione gasped slightly at his touch on her bare skin. She reached behind her back and undid the clasps of her bra. He lifted it off her and added it to the growing pile of mingled vestments. 

His hand moved to her left breast. Working in impossibly slow circles, it stubbornly avoided her nipple. Finally, he lightly grazed over it with his palm. It sent electric shock waves down her spine. He swirled his tongue around the hard rosebud. She moaned deeply. He repeated the same torture on her right breast. It was no less intense a second time. 

The slow antagonization was getting to him almost as much as it was to her. He trailed off her breast and kissed his way down her stomach. She put up her knees in a show of mock defiance. He ran his hands over the outside of her thighs, then grasped knees and spread them apart. He traced her thighs to where they joined her body and ran his fingers down the crevice. 

He couldn't stand it any longer. He had to taste her. He grabbed her panties and pulled him off in one deft motion. She was finally laid open to him. 

He ran two fingers down her labia and licked the warm juices from his fingers. She tasted heavenly. His fingers found her clitoris and rubbed gently. She thrust her hips forward. He needed no further invitation. He ran his tongue over her lips. 

Colours. She was seeing colours. And she was feeling- God, what wasn't she feeling? His tongue delved into her while his fingers - no, wait, his fingers were there, that had to be his nose - worked her sensitive nub. He switched positions, lapping at her clitoris while moving his hand in and out of her. He increased his rhythm little by little. She knew she couldn't last much longer. His hand moved faster inside her. She melted. She moaned as the waves hit her. 

He kept moving his hand while she finished, then gently withdrew it. He lay down beside her and kissed her. She tasted herself for the first time and found that it was not entirely unpleasant. Outside, a hard rain had begun to fall. 

"You do realize this changes everything," she said, addressing the canopy. 

"I know," he replied, "and I don't care." She studied him curiously. 

"I never can read you," she said, frustrated. "Just what is going on in that head of yours?" He looked into her mind and found something he did not expect. 

"I'm thinking they're going to kick me out of the Society for Legilimency for what I'm about to do," he said, reaching for his wand. Before she could question him, she felt her wrists being sucked upward and secured to the headboard with magical ropes. He performed a charm, and his robe flew off and neatly folded itself on the chair. He was naked underneath. He positioned himself above her. 

Hermione wondered, in the grand tradition of women in her position, how it was ever going to fit. He poised himself at her opening. She suddenly realized that she didn't care. 

With one smooth motion, he sheathed himself. Hermione felt as if she could die in that moment and be completely happy. When he swirled his hips into her, she was forced to reappraise that decision. He moved in and out of her slowly. His every move was met with her own upward thrust. He increased his tempo. Her moaning turned to screaming that drove him mad. He abandoned himself and thrust as quickly as he could. 

Before long, he could feel her clenching around him. She was screaming his name and struggling at her bonds. It was too much for him, and he came long and hard. 

"Finite Incantatum," he muttered breathlessly. 

Soon, he was lying beside her, cradling her. Her head rested on his chest, and he could feel her every breath as if it was his own. The rain still poured around them. 

"So what happens now?" she asked, with confusion in her voice. He looked out the window. 

"I don't know. I can't know," he replied. Soon the golden dew of sleep fell upon them, and they slept that way long into the morning. 

"The pearl is the symbol of those souls who remain trapped in the mud of the natural world. Imprisoned by their bodies and their flesh, they somehow manage to remain spiritually alive. Cathars refer to these souls as the living ones." - "The Living Ones", The Snow Garden, Christopher Rice


	4. Four Endings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Original author's notes:
> 
> I couldn't pick just one ending, so here are 4 choices. First up is the ending that the story logically deserves. Secondly, we have the fluff ending that I wanted the characters to have. Thirdly, a what-if ending, consisting of messages left outside Hermione's door the next morning. Finally, complete randomness. Thanks to Jo for commando Snape and to Rachel and Puja for Snape's boxers.

**Ending One: A Farewell To Arms**

I thought my long nightmare had finally ended. I thought I finally had everything together. I was wrong. 

In my pride, I thought my love was the restorative she needed. There is a curious thing, however, about restoratives. They must be given in small doses, or they can be deadly. Blinded by lust, I thought she was strong enough to handle it. My pride betrayed me. The change from wanting a thing so badly to having it in droves was too much for her in her weakened state. Instead of healing her, I drove her mad. Eventually, she had to be sent to St. Mungo's. Some time later, she died there, and when she did, she was carrying my son. 

The blood of three innocent people is on my hands. I am the dangerous and evil thing I always feared I was. 

I have broken my wand and burned all my books. I left Hogwarts for the seclusion of a strict order of muggle monks. Here, I will live out the rest of my days, hoping in some small way to atone for my crimes. 

"But after I had got them out and shut the door and turned off the light it wasn't any good. It was like saying good-by to a statue. After a while I went out and left the hospital and walked back to the hotel in the rain." - A Farewell to Arms, Ernest Hemingway

  


**Ending Two: Attack of the Killer Fluff**

Ron and Parvati Weasley lived a comfortable life with their three children, Arthur Jr., Perneet, and Sirius. One fine morning, Ron and his wife were sitting around the table. Ron has just received his Daily Prophet, and Parvati was engrossed in Witch Weekly. Their beautiful children were playing together on the floor, which Parvati had magically cushioned for them. It was an absolutely normal, uneventful sort of morning. 

A stately owl that Ron had never seen before flew into the open window and landed by his teacup. He took its burden, but it did not budge, seeming instead to watch him. He opened the large creamy scroll. It seemed to be an invitation of sorts. He read it and promptly spat his tea across the table. He was reading it a second time with a horrified expression when Parvati spoke up. 

"What's wrong, dear?" she asked, alarmed. 

"It's Hermione," he said, disgusted. "She's getting married to Snape!" 

"Ew," Parvati said simply. 

"And his blasted bird ate all my toast!" he said with great fury. The owl flew out the window to where an orange tabby was sitting. The owl and cat abruptly changed into women. 

"Was it worth it?" Minerva asked Hermione. 

"You have no idea," she said with a smile. "Now, let's go to the Three Broomsticks, I'm buying." The two women disappeared. 

***

Minerva was sitting in her office later that day. Suddenly her fire turned green. A hoary head appeared. 

"You're late," she said, setting down her quill and turning to him. 

"A wizard is never late," he intoned, "nor is he early. He arrived precisely when he means to." 

"Why, Albus," she said, "I didn't know you were a fan of muggle cinema." 

"Er, not especially, now," he said, "but this one has wizards in." She smiled. 

"Have you gotten your invitation yet?" she asked him. 

"It just came," he replied, "and you owe me five galleons. But..." here his eyes twinkled, "I might be willing to forget about it if you'd come as my guest." 

"I think I will have to accept that offer," she said, smiling at him. "One thing I don't understand though. Snape is an expert Occulmens. How did you ever figure it out?" 

"Simple. He used my Pensieve," he said with a hint of laughter in his voice, "and he may have just neglected to remove a memory or two once or twice..." his voice trailed off as he removed his head from the fire. 

"You old devil," Minerva said, turning back to her papers. 

***

The wedding took place just after exams at Hogwarts. The couple took their honeymoon over winter break. Upon their return, they found the head of house rooms had been rearranged. They now shared one large room, decorated in red and green. The snake and lion on the headboard eyed each other suspiciously. The lion batted a paw at the snake, which hissed. 

Hermione looked appraisingly around the room. 

"I should have married Professor Flitwick," she said with the utmost seriousness. 

"Might I ask why?" he asked with a bemused look. 

"Because I'm going to get sick of living in a room coated in Christmas colours," she replied. 

"Can your beloved Professor do this?" he said, pulling him to her into a mind-blowing kiss. 

"No," she said, pulling away, "but he is about waist height-"

"I forbid you from finishing that sentence," he said. "That's just disturbing." 

"Yes, and you're going to think about every time you see him from now on." 

"You win this round," he said, narrowing his eyes at her. She only smiled and performed a disrobing charm. He was wearing white boxers with tiny pink hearts. They sang barbershop-style to her. She shook her head. 

  


**Ending Three: The Message Board**

Ever heard of a silencing charm?   
-M. McG. 

Had to call off Remus; he thought you were being attacked. Consider yourselves lucky. I was there.   
-Flitwick

Warn me before you decide to... ahem... howl at the moon again.   
-Moony

(Package left in front of door)   
Enclosed please find one bottle of Contraceptive Potion and one school copy of Hogwarts, a History. I believe you're looking for page 652.   
-Poppy  
Hogwarts, a History, page 652:   
"After the events of 1278, a unique and specific ward was placed on Hogwarts. When a binding charm is performed, the caster and the victim's voices are magically amplified so that the victim may be more easily found."   
And I was under the impression that you had read this book, Professor Granger?   
-Mme. Pince. 

(Postdated to that afternoon)   
You will meet a tall, dark man. The tea leaves, they do not lie.   
-Sibyll

That slight shake you feel under your feet is Godric Gryffindor and Salazar Slytherin spinning in their graves.   
\- S. Sinistra

  


**Ending Four: If Hogwarts Was In America**

Harry Potter was engrossed in his Daily Prophet. Since coming under new management, it had become a fine publication. He turned to page two. 

He read: 

HOGWARTS TEACHERS EMBROILED IN SEX SCANDAL  
By N. Sequitur, Wizard Press Association

Two Hogwarts teachers, Hermione Granger and Severus Snape, have been placed on probation following alleged impropriety.   
The pair stand accused of having sexual relations in Professor Snape's potions classroom. The acts allegedly occurred during lunch time, while both professors were supposed to be supervising students. The pair were discovered by first year student Bellatrix Malfoy, daughter of former Slytherin prefect and ministry official Draco Malfoy, who was looking for help on her potions homework.   
Professor Granger was Head Girl of Hogwarts in the 97-98 school year. She was a member of Dumbledore's Army and worked for some time as a ministry official. She was the youngest ever head of Gryffindor. Professor Snape, a reformed Death Eater, is a world renowned potions master. He is head of Slytherin House and president of the Society for Legilimency. Both received the Order of Merlin, First Class for their work in the war against Lord Voldemort.   
"It is sad that two such fine wizards have brought this kind of shame to Hogwarts," said Headmistress Minerva McGonagall. "This matter will be fully investigated, and both professors will be disciplined accordingly."  
The Hogwarts Board of Governors is expected to release its findings next week. 

Harry laid the paper down. 

"I picked a bad week to quit drinking," he said, shaking his head. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I don't know either.
> 
> An affectionate (mostly) sporking of this story was undertaken at [writers_orgasm](http://writers-orgasm.livejournal.com) and is available [here](http://writers-orgasm.livejournal.com/32812.html).
> 
> Oh lord almighty.


End file.
